Chained
by sommerson
Summary: Ares Goddard has had a tough time. A year ago, a terrible accident completely altered her life and bestowed upon her endless guilt. Now she has adjusted to the consequences with her best friend Hunter. Enter piercing icy blue eyes and an unequivocal smirk: Damon Salvatore. Battling with his wavering intentions and trying to rein her life back in, which secret is getting unchained?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hi! Welcome! Bit of housekeeping first...  
Disclaimer: any material recognised in this story does not belong to me, esp. characters/plot/settings, etc from TVD. Only soome characters/plot/settings are mine, to which I reserve all rights.  
PS: **_Italics_** means it's been said in French (:**  
**Enjoy!**

CHAPTER ONE: DESOLE D'ETRE EN RETARD

I had my life in order until he came along. There were no loose ends, I knew what I was doing and why I was doing it. I had finally gotten myself into a routine that I could bear and stick to. I could make sense of the things going on around me and I was dealing. In fact, I'd maintained it for so long, it was exactly a year after the accident that he showed up and started unravelling my tightly bound life.

This year, the 3rd of September landed on a Tuesday and that meant school. After the entirety of two months spent avoiding my classmates, I can hardly say it was the best feeling in the world to welcome them back. I rocked up as late as possible but just early enough to make it in time: Dad would absolutely kill me if I started off the year with a tardy and a detention.

Nothing much had changed about the school and the people. There were the usual crowds and a few summer transformations but that was expected.

I spotted Hunter hanging out by the senior lockers with the popular group. He sent me a quick wink and I shot one back when no one was looking before acting as if nothing had happened and going on my way.

Hunter Blakely was my best friend, just that no one knew it.

There used to be three of us, me, Hunter and Sarah. We were in everyone's eyes, the three musketeers, the trio that could never crumble, three peas in a pod. I wasn't like that anymore and it hadn't been for a long while. Now it was just me and Hunter, and to the extent of popular belief, we'd barely exchanged glances in a year, let alone remained best friends.

But it was good because no one looked into that. And thank god they didn't.

Until he came along.

The bell for second period trilled through the announcer and the classroom immediately erupted in a racket of scraping furniture and obnoxious voices. I sighed and wearily swung my bag over my shoulder. People knockd me as they rushed to the door and another sigh, frustrated, passed my lips. I wasn't ready to be here. The dread that I felt about an entire year stuck in this place was overwhelming.

As I trudged through the halls to my next class, I kept my head down which means I didn't notice when Hunter decided to nudge me playfully with his shoulder and accidentally send me flying into a locker, knocking the wind out of me. I swung around and gave him the full-on glare. After only one class, I was in no mood to deal with his prancing around with his 'cool' buddies and leave me in the dust.

As predicted, his little entourage gave a big whooping 'OOOH!' as I bumped past them and marched away.

God, I was not happy to be back. And I was going to give Hunter hell tonight for that. For all my bitterness, I really didn't want his attention at school. He was and always had been a part of the popular crowd. I had never been too into it before the accident but now I wanted to be as far away as possible and be left in peace by the student body. Head down, keep to yourself, don't get noticed. That was pretty much my philosophy.

Although I was in a solid routine, I still had a hell of a lot to deal with.

It was with those thoughts that I strolled into 2nd period French, late. Damn.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Goddard. Nice of you to join us," drawled Monsieur Pacques. For some reason, unbenownst to me, M. Pacques harboured a significant distaste for me. I think it was because of my tendency to arrive late to his classes and still maintain an A-grade. Languages were my forte.

I droned out my routine response, "_Sorry for being late, _M. Pacques."

"Ares. _I hoped that you would make an effort this year but I can see that's not possible._"

"_Sorry, sir._"

"_Sit down. Quickly_."

"_Yes, sir._"

And so I made my way to one of the two free desks in the room, up the back. Thank god the class had let me keep my spot. I hate being watched by people, so I like sitting up the back. Last year when-

"And you are?" came M. Pacques' voice, interrupting my musings. I looked up to see a man standing in the doorway, looking perfectly at ease leaning against the frame with a smirk and his leather jacket. He had to be at least twenty but no older than twenty-four, I'd say. As I had a perfect view of the class in front of me, I could clearly watch all of the female students sit up straighter in an instance. He was hot, which equaled creepy starey eyes from half the class and glares from the other. I looked back down at my papers where I was doodling things.

"_Hello ..._ M. Pacques? _Yes_?" a deep, husky, alluring voice wafted over me. God he even sounded good. And his accent was exquisite.

"_Yes, that's me._ _What would you like_?"

"_Sorry I'm late. My name is Damon. I'm the new student_."

I looked up. Oh my god. He was a senior? Maybe he repeated a few grades or something... There was a short silence in which M. Pacques simply stared at him as well.

"_Euh... of course. Sit down please. I will talk with you at the end of class._"

Damon gave him a smirk and an almost sarcastic, "_Thank you_." And then I realised he was making his way towards the desk next to me, as it was the only one free. As he did so, he was looking straight into my emotionless eyes and smirking so I looked away and shook my head. Here we go with the hot new students.

I went back to my drawing and tried to ignore his ever gorgeous presence beside me. He hadn't even payed any attention to the lesson M. Pacques was giving. Not that I noticed...or was doing anything different. I accidentally caught his eye at one point and, to my horror, a blush sprad out across my cheeks. I could hardly ignore the captivation of his ice blue, black-rimmed eyes.

Wait... the name Damon rang a bell. I wonder if his surname-

_"Miss Goddard! Are you paying attention_?"

"Euh..." Oh shit. I look up from my half-trance at Damon and half-gaze at my drawings to see M. Pacques looming above me. Ugh.

"_What's this?_" he asked rudely, motioning to my drawings. "Mm? _Let me see those papers. Now._"

Okay, this was bad. I'm not exactly the best artist but my skills aren't the problem here. The trouble is the subject matter.

Let me try to explain some things, or at least let me vaguely outline my problem here as I'm sort of sworn to secrecy.

Hunter has a secret. Not a lame-ass one like "I cheated on my girlfriend" or something, this secret was life-altering, mind-boggling sort of material. He had shared it with me, his best friend when he had no one to turn to and together we had navigated the difficulties that ensued. Before, we were inseperable by presence and memories. After, we were inextricable in every other forms but.

But back to the dilemma at hand. My drawings were, if they were looked at by the wrong eyes, clues to the aforementioned secret. It was infested in every thought, reaction and emotion now. It was so ingrained into my routine and life that when I grew absent-minded in class, it would spill out on my paper, only in picturesque-form.

"_I worry about you_, Ares." M. Pacques said as he slid the papers from my grasp and started striding to the front of class.

I don't think I could describe the desperation, guilt and the loss of words I felt as he held up the first picture. They were simple, silhouette style drawings of eerie rooms with chains, a bridge, a large oak door and eyes. Lots of eyes, in different forms.

I erratically scanned the room, tracking for any unusual behaviours in front of me. Phew, all clear. Except-

Damon.

With those piercing, soul-searching blue eyes, he was no longer gazing at me, he was outright glaring at me, and yet he was doing it somehow with ... trepidation? Yeah, don't ask me how I came up with that one.

Not used to this sort of phenomenon occuring in my routine, I had no idea how to react, especially to the new kid ... guy ... man? So, as my safety net, I simply tilted my head to the side and narrowed my eyes in a "what do you think you're looking at, punk?!" kind of way. Or at least I've always hoped that's what it seems like.

What resulted in this exchange was a three minute continuation, each second our glares glowering stronger. M. Pacques finally seemed to have had enough fun torturing me and tossed the drawings back on my desk with a gruff, "_Pay attention next time._"

Ripping my eyes from the lock of the icy blue, I gave M. Pacques a dazed nod, trying to shake off the feeling that I had just bared all my soul to this mysterious and alluring stranger.

The rest of the lesson only lasted ten minutes before the dismal shrill of the bell chimed again, perhaps the biggest relief I had experienced in a long while. I leaped from my seat, stuffed my things into my shoulder bag and practically legged it. Thinking I was the first from the room, I heaved an enormous sigh of relief: to be free of the horror I had just experienced. My mind was reeling with thoughts of that blue gaze.

Had the newbie understood my amateur pictures? Why did he look about ten years older than he should? Why had his intense gaze moved me so tremendously when I had been so irresponsive to anything of that kind and more for a long while?

I could say for sure, this man was not a good omen. Not one to usually judge people on first impressions, I decided that I didn't like this man and that I should steer clear. Although, after I had calmed down, I was certain that he would have no clue as to what my drawings meant, I didn't want to provoke any more opportunities to prove otherwise.

Besides, how could anyone know about Hunter? We had worked hard to preserve all of that. There was no way someone could have that much knowledge about the most intimate details of our life without us picking up on it a little.

Right?

Oh god, I need my best friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO: BLOODY OPTIMISTS**

Tonight was a bad one.

Given the circumstances, I was expecting nothing less but it was still an endurance. I had to make sure that I double barred each door and after an hour, I felt safer by pushing furniture against the one nearest to me.

I'd once again attempted to do some homework but to no avail. So I switched to trying to listen to all my favourite music; indie, punk, rock, folk, whatever - nothing was blocking it out. I'd resorted to pulling the covers on the faltering old bed around me and clasping the locket tight in my hands. After an hour or two of this, I noticed myself rocking back and forth, like I was trying to comfort myself.

I winced and my back jolted as a particularly loud one shook the walls of the area I was in. In the corner I spied a stone matted with moss crumbling from its place. Breathing in and out steadily, I readjusted my position, clamping my eyes shut tight as a tremble shook me again.

Guilt engulfed me as a harrowing howl ripped and echoed through the thick stone walls. A tear broke my barricade of lashes and dripped down my face, making a tiny mark on the pillowcase.

For a long while there was nothing from inside nor the wilderness out and above. I sat, with bated breath.

...

...

CAW!

I jumped out of my freaking skin as the sinisterly silent, eerie night was smashed as an enormous black crow tore past the entrance above. It took me a minute or two to regain my usual heart rate, still having to listen to yelps from inside and clutching my locket ever tighter in my palms.

I woke up later than I usually did the night after. I'd only managed to fall asleep after I was 100% certain it had ceased and I had removed all of the barricades from my side. By then, the first slithers of light were peeping through the holes in the stoned ceiling.

I still had the locket embedded in my fist and I was still tangled in the covers of the rotting bed. It must have been at least 10:30 by the looks of it. Damn, missed way more than one period. I groaned.

Hunter was snuggled up behind me and his breath was tickling my neck. I turned to cuddle closer into him. He smelt gross again, as he always would straight after. I was was my squirming to get away from the smell that woke him, I think.

"Mmmm..." he mumbled, suffocating me by hauling me into his chest and me struggling against him but being no match for his strength. But don't ever let him hear me actually say that! "Mornin' sunshine."

"Mph! Yeah morning," I grumbled, having no choice but to speak to his peeks. "Come on, we need to get to-"

"No..." he groaned loudly, "don't say it! We don't need to. Let's just lie here forever and ever and ever and-"

"Shut up."

"Never," he said flipping to his back and covering his face with a pillow.

"Look, my Dad will kill me if I skip a whole day and although he loves you and all, you're gonna get the blame."

"How?!" he protested, glaring at me.

"Well...I may be telling him that it's actually YOU who's corrupting ME and not the other way round!" I laughed. For a split-second I saw an odd expression pass Hunter's face, sort of like guilt or shame or something but I couldn't work it out before it was wiped clean and he was back to his silly ways, "You wouldn't!"

"Wanna test that out? I mean, I know I could survive without you, but you not seeing me? You'd be crying like a baby within-"

"Okay okay!" he said, leaping up and getting everything in order, tossing clothes at me and locking things up.

"Good boy," I commented drily. He shot me a withering look, clearly not amused by that one.

"And for the record," he said as I was changing my pants, "I could so survive without you."

I simply raised an eyebrow at him.

"... For a while," he finished lamely.

I scoffed and grabbed my bag, starting up the steep, falling-apart stairs that lead up to ground level.

Since we were so late today, we had to skip the shower. We both had gym right before lunch so we figured we could shower then. Yes, nasty I know but I really didn't have another choice.

Hunter belted out all the songs on the radio, which was up to max volume, and sped the entire way there.

I rolled my eyes at him.

"What?" he said indignantly while turning the radio down, actually looking a bit put off.

"I hate how you're so happy afterwards."

He gasped in mock offence. "You detest my undying happiness? How can I possibly be anything but with such a ray of sunshine as my company?"

I hit him on the arm for that one.

"I don't get it though. You've had a max of three hours sleep and after what you've gone through?"

He shrugged, turning a little more serious as we pulled into the parking lot. "I guess it's just the prospect that I have an entire month to go with no worries!"

"Bloody optimists."

He laughed at me and killed the engine, rocketing out his door and sprinting away.

"Race you to class!" he cried over his shoulder.

"We don't even have the same class!" I yelled back.

He grinned at me and kept on going.

Strange boy, that one.

Well, I would know.

It's just my luck that out of all my classes, the one that I have to walk in half-way through is Advanced French. No, I couldn't even have missed it completely or arrived a minute late from my last class it was more than half a period.

This was scary for two reasons: One, M. Pacques was just generally a crabby man and would take no hesitation in contacting someone who would contact my Dad, or even worse, do it himself. Number two was that it was M. Pacques and as he outright hated me, he seemed to have a substantial amount of material that he could use to embarrass and draw attention to me. Also, he will give me detention and extra work too.

Oh god, I just remembered that the homework which I tried to but couldn't complete last night was for him. I just can't do anything right, can I?

I stood outside the classroom door for a minute, simply grimacing and planning my strategy, but as I heard the literal (and proverbial too I guess) clock ticking I really had to get it over with...so I knocked.

"Mdm. Goddard, hi, hello, welcome! Was there something else you wanted, besides a grand entrance?" Great, my teacher is using damned sarcasm against me in a different language.

"No, I'm okay, sir." Oops. Now that wasn't planned. The class laughed and his demeanour shifted in an instance.

"Detention, Goddard." Uh-oh. English. "Lunchtime. Sit down. Now."

"Yes, sir," I mumbled, scurrying to my seat.

It was as the class finally took their attention elsewhere that I realised that Mr. I'm-way-too-old-for-high-school was once again staring at me. I refused to look at him, pointedly ignoring him, hoping he'd get the damn message already. I REALLY wasn't in the mood today. I mean, I was only running on about four hours of uncomfortable sleep.

As expected, for the rest of the lesson I was called on to answer close to all of the questions to a text that I hadn't read. Of course, that gave me another detention.

This day was not swinging my way.

And come ON Mr. 25, look at someone else who smells like crap and looks like it too. Is that so hard?

The bell was my angel today.

"You look like you could use some help." Wha-?

I looked up as I was hastily shoving things into my bag (which was helpfully ripping at the seams) to see Damon holding out my book that I must have dropped on the floor.

"Oh, thanks." Get away, get away.

"Here, let me take that for you."

"No!" He looked at me, amused. "Um, no that's okay. You're probably not headed my way anyway so it's better-"

"5th period gym? In the gym?"

I couldn't help but crack a tiny smile at his subtle joke. Unfortunately, this led me into the trap that was his crystallised blue eyes. The smirk on his face spread wider as I tried and failed to break eye contact. For some reason, I found myself mirroring him.

"Well, let me see, I don't REALLY fancy traipsing through the halls with a twenty-something year old guy who claims to be a senior high-school student."

"Feisty," he said, completely ignoring my jibe. He leaned in and looked straight into my eyes teasingly. "I like it."

To be honest, I was quite disturbed with sudden close contact...or almost contact I guess.

"Cliché," I countered, leaning closer too and then heading off quickly as I said: "Not my thing."

Without ever losing step, Damon followed me all the way to my locker and to the gym, I really couldn't shake him. As I was about to escape into the girls' changerooms, he said something that clued me in to the validity of my original judgement of him: sketchy and a danger to the secret.

"I noticed that you had a rendezvous with Blakely this morning." WHAT. On instinct (and panic) I snapped my head around to him, sufficiently cricking it in the process.

"HUNTER Blakely you mean?" feigning disbelief while really I was reeling inside.

"Hurry up you two!" shouted Coach Michaelson as she strode past. People were already changed and warming up and I hadn't even made it to the changeroom yet ughgahugjhuh.

Damon ignored her and smiled at me.

"Yes. That one."

"Hah! I wish. Or at least according to general opinion; I should." Ah! Why am I still talking to this guy?

"Are you telling the truth?"

Okay- I'm about to say something crazy but please believe me...his PUPILS dilated/un-dilated/dilated again. I would know, I was looking straight into them. I swear, I am not kidding. It might be easier to believe if everyone knew the things I did.

There were several seconds of tense silence.

...

"Go away, creep." I hissed out, just as Coach yelled again, "Get changed already or you're getting detention!"

But that didn't seem to be the right response as his face turned murderous.

Finally using my common sense today, I scampered away and sat down.

I need a drink.

**AN: Reviews? (:**

**V**


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